Suffocation
by TsuyuBaby
Summary: "I mean, yea, when I got out it was going to be a dream working with Neal, but was it worth what was going to happen in prison?" Neal/OMC, Peter/Neal, Peter/Neal/OMC, non-con OMC/OMC
1. Chapter 1

Title: Suffocation  
>Author: Koite<br>Rating: NC-17  
>Summary: "I mean, yea, when I got out it was going to be a dream working with Neal, but was it worth what was going to happen in prison?"<br>Pairings: Neal/OMC, Peter/Neal, Peter/Neal/OMC, non-con OMC/OMC,  
>Warnings: non-con, language, mxm<p>

A/N: I know I was supposed to have delivered a Damien/Peter/Jared fic for the F&B fandom like...yesterday. But I was introduced to the loveliness of All Time Low fanfiction, and then I stumbled upon the the beauty of Reita from The Gazette and I had to read like..a million fics with him. He's such an adorable sub!~ ^^ Anyways, so I had to finish this before I started the F&B fic. But that's on the top of my list, right after the third and final chapter of this story. Which should be out fairly soon. Yea, so anyway. Enjoy the insane amount of angst and non-con that I shoved into this first chapter. The second chapter will probably be stuffed full of overflowing fluff. Also, chapter one and two were supposed to all be one chapter, but LJ said it was too big. :p Apparently, I write quiet a lot. xD Ah, so this actually means that there might be four chapters, but only if LJ freaks out on me again.

~X~

I'd wanted to meet him since I was little. He was my biggest role model and I looked up to him like he was a father figure even though I had never met him. Neal Caffrey was my idol. Perhaps I should explain a bit more. My name is Luka Summers. I was born into an extremely poor household. My mother died giving birth to me and my father was constantly at work in order to make enough money to support us. When he got home he would drink. When he was drunk he would get angry. And when he got angry he would hit me.

I ran away from home when I was 16. I started living on the streets and stealing whatever I could. This was when I learned of the infamous Neal. I studied his work and tried to imitate it. It was difficult living on the streets though. Instead of spending my time conning the big boys out of millions of dollars and forging immaculate copies of historically famous art, I would stand on corners at night waiting to be bought and stealing clothing, food, and other essentials from stores.

Steal something small, pay for dinner. Steal something big, have a room for the night. That was how I lived. Eventually I figured out how to steal the insanely expensive items. Items that would get me new clothes, pay for rent in my run-down apartment, and buy groceries.

I never stayed in one particular place very long, in order to avoid detection. Which is how I ended up in New York City. I was here for a year and four months before I had stolen and forged enough highly expensive and heavily guarded pieces to land myself dead center on FBI Agent Peter Burke's radar.

They were all saying I was the new Caffrey. Trouble was, it only took the Fed a year and four more months after that to catch me. By this point, I was 19. Over the limit for juvenile prison. I would be charged as an adult. The Fed cut me a deal, I would work with him and Caffrey once I got out and in return my sentence would only be five months.

This didn't sound like much of a deal to me. I knew what would happen to a guy like me in prison. I was skinny from a lack of good diet and only 5'7''. I had shoulder length, straight, dark blonde hair with a few bangs that fell over into my eyes, which were a ice blue with a indigo rim. I knew how I looked and therefor, I was fucking scared to go to prison. The whole five months were going to be hell. I was starting to wonder why I had listened to Neal and turned myself in.

I mean, yea, when I got out it was going to be a dream working with him, but was it worth what was going to happen in prison? I guess I'd just have to do my best to con myself out of those type of situations.

~X~

Today was the day. Neal and the Fed were going to drop me off and then I'd be on my own, left to those monsters, for five months. The Fed was driving, Neal was in the passenger seat, and I was sitting in the backseat, cuffed to the handle above the car door so that I wouldn't escape. It was impossible to open the back doors of the huge, black vehicle from the inside. It seemed they really didn't trust me.

Which was actually smart, cause on the ride there I was fine, but once we got within viewing distance I started freaking out. I was trying not to cue the other two in the car into what I was thinking, but I couldn't stop the my hyperventilating. My eyes got wide, and I started picking the handcuffs. I couldn't do this. I couldn't...

When we turned inside the fence to my soon-to-be hell I actually fucking whimpered. Ashamed that I would let such a noise escape my normally calm facade, I leaned my head against the seat in front of me and hid my face in my now free hands. I tried calming myself down, but all I succeeded in doing was psyching myself out more.

I must have jumped a foot in the air and squeaked when I felt a hand petting my hair, trying to calm me down. Looking up with frantic eyes, I saw the two of them staring at me. We were at our destination. I had to get out of the car and go inside now. The Fed land Neal looked at each other, communicating with their eyes so that I didn't know what they were saying. I probably looked like a deer caught in the headlights, as I was looking fearfully between the two, trying to catch any hints as to what they were thinking.

Then the Fed opened the door and stepped out. Neal watched him for a second before turning around in his seat to look at me. _Fuck_, I can't believe that I looked like such a frightened mess in front of him. Mentally berating myself for looking so weak, I straightened up and took a deep breath, waiting for him to say something.

"You know you have to go in now. You shouldn't fight them or try to run because you could be put in solitary confinement."

"Maybe that's a good thing...solitary confinement, I mean." I mumbled quietly. Pausing, he looked at me for a second before smiling a little and agreeing.

"True, if you could just stay in solitary for the whole five months it'll go better for you. The problem with that is, your sentence will keep getting longer each time you get in trouble. Actually, if you could just survive for a few months with perfect behavior, then you might get out early." He said positively.

"Neal...when you were in prison...did they..." I asked, gulping down my fear.

"Only once. Shortly after I arrived, someone more to their liking showed up and I was forgotten." He said quietly, looking away.

"That won't happen to me will it? Them forgetting, I mean. Because you're fucking _sexy_ as hell, but I'm...I'm that type that everyone looks at and thinks, 'he'd be a perfect sub'."

As I said this, my cheeks flushed. Both at calling him sexy right to his face, and at the embarrassment of admitting that I knew I looked like the _fucking _definitionof a submissive. Neal blushed a little at the compliment, but then looked at me with a darkly tinged amusement.

"No, they won't forget you. I like you Luka, so I'm going to be honest with you. Even if the truth is brutal. They will be all over you. You aren't going to get a break, unless you're in solitary. They are going to touch you, probably against your will. They are going to rape you. And I'm so sorry. So _fucking_ sorry. All I can hope is that when you get out of that hellhole, you won't be broken. Promise me Luka!_ Promise_ there will be enough of you left for Peter and I to put back together."

I appreciated his honesty, but at the same time I wish he had lied. I wish he had said it would be all bunnies and happiness and then laughed at me and said to enjoy my five month break. But he didn't, and I knew I wouldn't enjoy a single moment.

Taking a deep breath, I nodded. I could survive this. I survived my asshole father beating me on a regular basis, I survived living on the streets and selling myself in order to afford food. I could survive this to.

"I'll look at it as payment for my freedom. I can do that. Just change the mindset, right? Classic conman rule, just look at the situation differently and you'll come out on top, right?" I was practically begging him to say yes and tell me that I would be ok. And he knew it. He gave in anyway, probably cause he knew it was the last bit of hope I was going to have for the next few months.

I wanted a hug, as stupid as that sounded. I wanted to feel another humans touch voluntarily before I went into that hellhole. But I wouldn't ask. I knew what type of personality most people of our profession were. It wasn't a trusting one. A key part of our survival relied on getting close to no one. I knew because I carried that personality as well. As much as I wanted to be comforted one last time, he wasn't the one to ask. No one was. I had no one, and nothing. And I could do this.

Closing my eyes and taking one last deep breath, I nodded and then got out of the open car door without saying anything to Neal. No goodbyes, I didn't need something that personal. I walked up to the Fed and he started to lead me inside. He took the handcuffs off and the guard moved to put the prison cuffs on me. A completely irrational fear took over at the sight of them. I knew once he had locked me in, then it was final. There was no escaping what I was going into.

I wouldn't let myself be taken like this. _I couldn't_. I broke away from the Fed's hard grip on my arms and ran. I didn't know where I was going, but it didn't matter because I didn't get very far. I hadn't expected Neal to get out of the car, and I hadn't even noticed that he was right behind the Fed until I practically ran right into him. I tried one last attempt to just push past him and keep running, but his surprisingly strong arms shot out, grabbed me around the waist and pulled me into his broad chest.

Taking a deep breath, I realized he was hugging me. I was utterly shocked he would offer up himself like that. He took the first step, so that means he was the one opening up to me rather than the other way around.

"I know you wanted it. Sometimes you have to ask, even if it means opening yourself up to others. Being close to someone isn't always a bad thing." He said, smiling. I buried my head into his chest and inhaled his calming scent, before looking up at him and muttering a small thanks.

He tightened his grip around me and smirked, "I expect this same fiery, stubborn, bold person to come out of this place in five months, ok?"

Releasing me, he then put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes, "I'll be highly disappointed with 'the new Caffrey' if he can't survive five months in there. So you better fight, no giving in, no giving up. Got it?"

Smirking right back at him, I said, "Of course, would you expect anything else? I'll come out even better than you did. Got that, asshole?"

Smiling at me he answered, "I got it. So get over there and go enjoy your week of solitary that you just earned. See ya, kid."

I nodded and turned to walk over to the guard. I looked at Neal as the man cuffed me. The Fed went over to him as it was happening and touched his arm. He whispered something into the shorter man's ear and Neal smiled back at him fondly. It took me a second to realize what I was seeing. And then it hit me hard, they were together. I felt abandoned, and I didn't know why.

It felt like my world had just imploded and everything he had just said to me was no longer relevant. The hug he had just given to me felt like a betrayal. This is why I didn't open up to anyone. Thank whoever might exist out there that I hadn't made the first move, or this feeling would be a lot worse. I looked away before I saw anything else. I couldn't bear to see anymore.

The guard walked me to the door. He opened it. I looked up at the sky for the last time as a free man. It was cloudy. The door shut behind me.

~X~

That week I spent in solitary, like the bastard had said. I had taken to calling Neal 'the bastard' even though he hadn't really done anything wrong to me. I had felt betrayed, but that was my own fault for thinking there was more to his kind words and comforting gestures than there truly was. It also made me feel better whenever I got angry at my circumstances.

The first night I was released from solitary nothing happened, maybe cause no one knew about me. I had been moved into a vacant cell and was assured that I would have a cellmate the next day. I woke up the next morning scared out of my mind that he would already be there. He wasn't. It was lunch time now and I would be seeing all the prisoners for the first time.

I walked into the cafeteria and got into the line. I was getting stared at. I looked to both my left and right in the line and noticed that they were both smirking at me. Fuck, here it comes. I knew it wouldn't take long.

"Hey there, pretty boy. Come over to my cell after lunch."

It wasn't a question. That was an order. I gulped.

"The fuck, I saw him first! Lay of the blonde bitch, he's mine." The guy on my other side growled.

Shit, that really didn't take long. Five minutes and I've already been 'claimed' by two people. Who were now fighting over me...hmm, I could work that to my benefit.

"You guys should fight it out. Whoever wins gets me all to themselves for the night." I said, winking.

They both stared at me for a minute, and I was afraid they were about to call my bluff and just decide to team up and rape me on the spot. But they didn't.

"Heh, I like the kid. Sounds like a plan to me." The one on my left said, putting one of his thick hands on my neck.

The one on my right agreed. Neither won the fight and they were both sent to solitary for a few weeks. Well, that was fairly easy. I finished eating my lunch while they were fighting and got up to make my way back to my cell, only to find the way blocked.

"I saw what you did there, bitch. I thought it was cute. I'll have you know, I'm not as stupid as those two meatheads. You can't get rid of me that simply." He said smirking.

Gulping, I tried to back up. He just grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the cafeteria. Then he pushed me against the wall and leaned down to look at my in the eyes. It was a show of dominance, he wanted me to look down and away. To bear my neck to him in a submissive gesture. I wouldn't. I spit in his face.

Wiping it off, he punched me in the gut and I whimpered.

"You're my bitch now, got that? You do _what_ I want _when_ I want. Or you'll suffer." He ended his sentence with another jab into my stomach. I was afraid I'd lose the food I had just struggled so hard to get down. It would taste even worse on the way back up.

"Oh, and I don't kiss. It's gay. And I don't cuddle, so if your tight, little, faggot ass wants some fluffy shit like that, then I suggest you get more than one master. I don't mind sharing as long as you give me what I want. ...And what I want right now is for you to come to my cell."

He let me off the wall and pulled me along, practically breaking my wrist as he did so. We passed by numerous guards. Some looked at me sadly, some smirked, and some didn't even seem to realize we had passed by. Shouldn't the guards be helping me? What the fuck? Were all prisons like this, or did I just run out of luck and get the one where rape isn't a crime?

Pulling me into his cell, he threw me onto the bed. I tried to make a run for it, and got a punch to the face. Obviously, fighting back wasn't going to get me anywhere. I had to give in. Fucking bastard, I couldn't believe I was resorting to giving him what he wanted so soon. I felt like a whore. I wondered what Neal-the bastard-Caffrey would think if he knew I was going to just spread my legs and let it happen on the very first day. He'd probably hate me. He'd think I was disgusting.

My attention was quickly pulled back to my rapist-who had told me to yell Ben when he was pounding inside me, so I assumed that was his name, unless he was just kinky like that(speaking of which, I really hoped I didn't run into anyone who made me call them Daddy)-when he shoved my orange jumpsuit down and pressed himself inside me without a hint of lubrication or preparation.

Screaming, I tried to push myself forward on the bed and get away from the invading muscle. Ben just pulled me back and onto himself harder, groaning as he did so. I felt like throwing up. With tears running down my cheeks I reached out to grab the rod on the end of the bed with hands, in an effort to keep myself at least partially grounded.

After a few minutes, he turned me over to get a better angle and I found myself staring at the bottom of the top bunk. There were a lot of names and curse words scratched into the wood and I found myself trying to focus on them instead of what was happening. It was hard, seeing as how I'm pretty sure I was torn in about a million places. There was a wetness on my thighs and the bed beneath me. It was my blood.

Ben was a biter to, and all throughout the ordeal he kept practically biting chunks of skin out of my neck. I knew that would leave scars. When he came it burned beyond believe. I really hoped he didn't have any diseases. Pulling out of me he picked up a shank he had made out of rusty metal and smirked down at me.

"So that everyone knows I had you first." He said by way of explanation. Then I realized what he meant to do. He was going to carve his bloody name into me.

"Oh, _shit._ Please, no, I'll do anything you want! Just...don't cut me..." I cried. I didn't care that I sounded like a complete wimp. A permanent mark like that would make sure I could never forget my time in here.

"I'm going to do it. And then I'm going to do whatever I want anyways. Try not to move too much or I'll have to start over."

He pulled up my thigh and picked out a spot on the inside, close to my balls. I didn't like him having a knife so close to that sensitive area. Actually, I didn't like him having a knife anywhere near my body. I started breathing fast and whimpering as soon as he had carved out the first line of the B. By the time he was carving the last part of the N, I was sobbing quietly into my arm and hyperventilating.

Deciding it was good enough, he put the knife away and shoved me off the bed. Throwing my clothes at me, he told me to never forget that I was his bitch. What I didn't say was that I wouldn't be able to, no matter how hard I tried. Once I had shakily pulled my clothes on over my bleeding and bruised body, he told me to get out. Following his orders I quickly limped to my own cell.

My cellmate was there. And he looked at me in a predatory manner as soon as I entered. Whimpering, I backed into the corner. I spent the rest of the day huddled in a ball next to the toilet. I only moved to my bunk once it was dark and I was sure my cellmate was asleep.

~X~


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Suffocation  
>Author: Koite<br>Rating: NC-17  
>Summary: "I mean, yea, when I got out it was going to be a dream working with Neal, but was it worth what was going to happen in prison?"<br>Pairings: Neal/OMC, Peter/Neal, Peter/Neal/OMC, non-con OMC/OMC,  
>Warnings: non-con, language, mxm<p>

A/N: Originally the second part of chapter one, but LJ freaked out about how long it was and so I've been forced to make it into two chapters. (I'm actually a bit proud of that fact. :p ) Anyway, enjoy~ xD

~X~

The next month followed around the same as that first day did. Thankfully, my cellmate didn't seem interested in doing more than staring at me. I truly appreciated that, and therefor I tried to do everything I could to keep it that way. I would do whatever he asked, such as leaving the cell without question at random times and bringing him things. He turned me into his messenger. He would have me deliver things to other prisoners and report back to him their responses.

Ben touched me nearly every night. I had a two week break when he was sent into solitary for fighting. I thought that would have been a good thing, but it really wasn't. It just left me open for other prisoners. I couldn't decide which was worse-Ben or the other prisoners. At least when he was done with me he let me go instead of clutching me into his sweaty, fat chest and breathing heavily next to my ear for an hour. I always felt like killing myself after those particular sessions. I just felt so fucking disgusting. Like I was covered in a dirt that would never come off.

And Ben didn't have a blood fetish. The bastard just wanted to get off. There had been a guy during his absence that had cut me repeatedly during the encounter. I had scars on my back and upper thighs from that night.

I was disgusted with myself. My reasons for living were slowly going down the drain and I wasn't doing anything to stop them. I had no one waiting for me on the outside. There was no one who would even care if I completely dropped off the map and never left prison. Besides Neal, of course. But he had Peter. They were together and I didn't stand a chance. Especially if Neal was into bottoming. And Peter didn't seem the type that was into having more than one partner, or sharing his partner for that matter.

So, in conclusion, I had no one. And I didn't own anything anymore since the Feds took everything when they threw me in here. Plus, what could I expect if I made it out of here? I'd get to help FBI catch more people who were just like me and assist in throwing their lives away, like I had thrown mine. This was getting worse by the minute. I should just kill myself.

...This train of thought really wasn't helping anything. Taking a deep breath I slid out of bed. They would be opening the cells soon for breakfast. I took a piss and then knelt down on the floor in front of the bars. It was cold and hard and the feeling of it shocked me out of my sleep enough to notice that the guard across the hall was staring at me. It made me think.

I was already used wasn't I? Already a disgusting, filthy whore. Letting a few more fat bastards touch me wasn't going to make that any worse. I was already covered in scars-bite marks, scratches, the cut on my back and upper thighs, and Ben's name. I'll remember what they've done to me for the rest of my life and nothing is going to change that. It won't get better. I was realizing this now.

The past is always with you. No one wants to say it's true, everyone wishes and tries to fool themselves into believing that time heals wounds and that if you live in the present then your past can't hurt you. But the truth is that you are what you've experienced. The things you've lived through are what make you into yourself.

I was born a fighter, and the only reason I've survived as long as I have is because I stayed that way. I fought to survive. I fought for my right to live in this rotten world. And I wasn't going to let this ruin it for me. Right now I was having a hard time holding on, suffocated by the situation. I had no where turn and breathing was getting overrated.

But I knew, oh I _knew_that things always got better. I'd be out of here soon and I could start anew. Maybe make a life for myself. I could even escape from the Fed and Neal and run of to Paris or my favorite-Greece. I could take up forging again. It wasn't hard for me to copy the greats and I'd always loved art. That's what I'd do. I was going to get out of here and then I'd go away. Far away.

With that thought in mind I stood up and leaned against the bars in a way that I knew was seductive. I stared straight into the guards eyes and dropped down the bars, spreading my legs. I trailed a finger up to my mouth and sucked on it. I was seriously hoping this rouse worked, if I could play it right I might be able to convince him into trading my body for a few days, weeks even, off of my sentence.

Thankfully the husky man took the bait. He walked over to the bars separating the two of us and smirked.

"You offering what I think you are, boy?"

Unfortunately, I am.

"Yes, sir. Or would you prefer I called you Master?"

I think I'm going to barf.

"Hmm, Master has quiet a nice ring to it, dontcha think kid? Or perhaps I'll call you pet. You'd like that wouldn't you, slut?"

No, actually I'd fucking hate that, _Sir_.

"Oh, yes. That turns me on. So. Fucking. Much. ...Master."

Oh holy fuck, I just batted my eyelashes at him. I never thought I'd sink this though. But I am. I really am.

"Good. You think I'm sexy, dontcha? Do I remind you of your Daddy, pet? Maybe he used to touch you and you want me to do the same. Yea, your such a fucking slut. Dirty whore."

This sick, sick, sick, absolutely fucking twisted-

"Yes. You look like he did...you have no idea what you do to me, Master. Or...could I call you Daddy? I'd love that."

Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. But then, I've always been good at lying haven't I?

"Heh, of course you would. Why don't you make you way down to this cell at lunch break? I'll make sure the guards watching the doors look the other way. We could have a _great_time, pet."

Yea, sure, let me just kill myself real quick and then I'll be right over.

"Sounds like a plan."

I winked him. He ran his hand down the side of my face, grabbing my hair and yanking my head back for a second. I was afraid. It was hard to breath-but it always was nowadays. I've been suffocating. Drowning. Slowly dying. He looked at me for a minute and then he was pulling his hand back through the bar and before I knew it he was gone. And I was alone again. Minus my still sleeping cellmate of course.

~X~

The morning went by faster than I would have liked and it was lunchtime in what felt like minutes. I walked through the door and headed to my cell. The guards nodded as I passed. I just looked at the ground.

When I reached my cell I saw him. He was leaning against the bars just outside the entrance, twirling his baton, and smirking. And fuck me, for not noticing how similar his baton looked to a whip until now. I winced and his smirk widened. Too late to turn back now.

I sauntered up to him, swaying my hips. If I could just make myself want this, it would be so much easier...

He followed me into the cell and before I had turned back around to face him he grabbed my hair and pulled me back into him.

"I just love your hair...it's perfect for grabbing a hold of. Mmm, so pretty and blonde...if you weren't blonde I would have never agreed to this, y'know? I just _love _blondes." He whispered huskily into my ear. I vowed to myself that I was dying it as soon as I got out of here.

He turned me around and pushed me to my knees. He pulled his pants down and tugged my head forward. I got the message. Taking him into my mouth was the hardest thing I'd ever done. He tasted like puke and piss. He obviously hadn't cleaned the area in a while. It stunk of rotten cheese. I stopped breathing for as long as possible.

Holding my breath wasn't easy though, when he stared fucking my face. I didn't even have time to suck, and I don't think he wanted me to. It was brutal, and the term skullfuck came time. His dirty cock was hitting the back of my throat and sliding down inside me. I almost barfed. I did choke.

He didn't stop. My choking got worse, but it felt good to him. My throat was constricting around him and the tears running down my face were probably turning him on. I felt disgusted and disgusting. When he came, I was forced to swallow it.

I was left a gasping and heaving mass of flesh when he pulled out. He didn't give me much time to recover before he was shoving me face first onto the bed. I was bent so that my ass and legs were off the side of the bed. I knew what was coming and tried to brace myself by gripping the sheets.

The first hit of his baton against the ass made me cry out. Breathing deeply through my nose, I remembered that I was supposed to be pleasing him. The happier he was, the more likely I was to get a reduced sentence. The next few blows he landed, I did my best to cry out Daddy or Master rather than a wordless shriek. This apparently pleased him, because he was soon dropping the abusive weapon and thrusting his unprepared dick into my bruised ass.

It only took him seven minutes and twenty-nine seconds to finish. I know because I counted. Counting was another way of distraction I had found. I needed as many as I could get in order to help forget that I was currently being ripped in half. Damn all the people in this hellhole for having at least semi-large dicks. Maybe that's what got them here-all that testosterone.

He left as fast as he came, cleaning himself up with my shirt and then tossing it on my head.

"See you next Tuesday, pet."

~X~

The weeks passed by. One Tuesday after he was done, he told me that he had scored me a deal. I was going to be out three weeks sooner than I had planned. I asked him why he would help me, I mean, he wanted my body so why get rid of it three weeks early? He said that I was going to do something for him in return. He didn't tell me what it was. And at that moment it didn't matter, cause this meant that I was now getting out in a two weeks. That's fourteen days.

It turns out, I should have forced him to tell me. The Tuesday before I got out, he showed up at my cell with two of the other guards. Before I even registered the thought of running for it, I had been shoved up against a wall.

One of the guards I didn't know pressed up behind me and and spat into my ear, "I heard that you call him Daddy. I want you to call me Brother. And my friend here wants to be called Uncle. You're going to do as we say willingly for the next few hours, or we're going to rape you and your sentence is going to be returned to what it was before. And don't worry about your cellmate. We made sure he's in solitary for the day. "

I whimpered and then answered, "..yes...brother."

"Good boy! You were right, he learns quickly! Heh, we're going to dp you, so you better get yourself ready. Be glad your 'Uncle' over here likes to watch or we'd be taking you raw!"

When I didn't answer 'brother' gripped my hair and yelled at me, "What do you say when someone is nice to you, huh?"

I gulped, "Th-thank you, Uncle?"

"That's right. Mmm, such beautiful eyes. I've always loved the 'big blue eyes' type. So fucking sexy when they're wide with fear and begging for their life."

I squirmed against the wall and looked away from his penetrating eyes. Dropping me to the floor, he reminded me that I was supposed to be prepping myself. I spit on my fingers and then shakily brought them to my spread legs. Their eyes were watching me and I so desperately wished that I had just given up and killed myself weeks ago. I was dying from the shame.

I pushed one finger inside, wincing at the feeling of the slightly healed flesh tearing again. Pushing it in and out a few times, I added a second finger. I scissored them for a few moments with a slightly pained expression on my face before adding a third.

I gasped out with pain at the stretching. I desperately searched out my prostate. I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of my pleasure, but I thought it might be worth it if I could just get a little into it, seeing as how they were planning on sticking two cocks inside me at once. I moaned with pleasure and my back arched when I jabbed into the spot.

"Fuck, that's enough blondie. I gotta get inside ya now. Ya should probably leave your fingers in, it'll help stretch ya to take both of us."

I decided to take his advice. He probably knew better than I did, seeing as I've never dp-ed before.

When he entered me I screamed. It hurt so much, having both him and my fingers inside. Taking a couple of deep breaths, I managed to recover before he started thrusting. He stopped after a couple minutes and then I felt myself being lifted. I was on my knees above him and then I felt my fingers being pulled out from behind me. Looking behind me I caught a glimpse of 'Daddy' before I felt him entering.

I was in so much pain, I couldn't even make a sound. He didn't enter slowly and he didn't give me time to adjust. As soon as they were both inside they forced me to ride them. 'Uncle' was watching. I felt numb.

The pain was so intense I felt like throwing up. I almost did. They finished in ten minutes and three seconds, both shooting their loads up inside me. 'Uncle's' cum hit my face and I realised he'd been jacking off to watching me. It felt like I had a million bugs crawling under my skin and I just wanted to rip it off and dig them out.

They cleaned up and left me.

'Daddy's' parting words were, "Good job pet. You really are a great pet...son. If you're ever locked up again I'll make sure to come visit you." He smirked at me and then left. I threw up.

I couldn't stand. I couldn't even sit. I crawled to my bed and didn't move again until two days later. Apparently, the bastards had made sure I had a day off. I was grateful. But one day wasn't enough. When I was forced to get up and walk to the breakfast room with the rest of the prisoners only two days after the ordeal I could barely make it. I almost passed out twice on the way there.

I had to use the wall to steady myself.

~X~

The night before I was released, Ben visited me one last time. He didn't pull out immediately afterwards, like he usually did. Instead he laid next to me for a good fifteen minutes before leaving a deep bite mark and the pulling out. He traced the scar from where he carved his name into me and then leaned into my ear and whispered, "See ya, bitch." The way he said it, 'bitch' sounded like a word of endearment.

When he left I fell into a fitful sleep. I dreamed that I was never leaving this place. I dreamed that I would be Ben's bitch and 'Daddy's' pet forever.

I woke up screaming.

~X~

I was given back my street clothes, but I hesitated to put them on. Jeans and a grey-ish blue v-neck shirt felt too revealing. I didn't want the Fed and Neal to see all the bruising and scars adorning my body when they came to pick me up.

Noticing my hesitation, and also probably due to the fact that it was snowing and freezing as hell outside, one of the nicer guards lent me his sweatshirt. It was a bit big for me, and only the tips of my fingers peeked out from under the sleeves. But I kind of liked it that way.

When I was released and walked out the front door the first thing I did was look up at the sky. It was cloudy, just like last time. But this time it wasn't with regretful rain, but sorrowful snow. My arms hung limply at my side, and I just stared. I couldn't make myself feel anything. I was numb to the core.

I was still alive, but there wasn't anything left inside me. I wasn't until Neal asked me who's jacket I was wearing that I realized I hadn't spoke-outside of what I was forced to say by the bastards who touched me-in two months. I didn't particularly feel like changing that now. I just stared at him. There was one thing I had to say though.

He was about to say something again. I wasn't sure what it was, but it didn't matter. I didn't care what he had to say. I didn't care about anything.

I interrupted him before he got the chance to say it.

"I broke our promise. There's nothing left for you to fix." I wasn't sure which scared him more-what I had just said, or the fact that when I said it my face was completely blank. It didn't matter.

I walked to the car and got in the back, leaving the Fed and Neal to stand in the snow alone.

Neal looked heartbroken.

I hoped he was.

Just so I wasn't the only one who had lost their heart.

~X~


End file.
